


Downpour

by Lillio



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Caught in the Rain, F/M, First Time, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillio/pseuds/Lillio
Summary: Muriel and a fem!apprentice get caught in the rain. Back at Muriel's hut, things heat up quickly.Preview:The warmth of the cabin was a relief, even if the fire was just a pile of crackling embers now. Muriel removed the soaked coat from her shoulders, hanging it to dry. The loss of it had her shivering, her own clothing damp and too light to keep in any of the warmth. Muriel frowned. He stripped his bedding of its single, coarse blanket and set it over her, guiding her to sit on the furs beside the fire.“Thank you, Muri.” She laughed, snuggling down into the thick blanket. A faint hint of color came over his cheeks, and he looked away. “I’ll get another log for the fire.”“Will you sit with me?” she asked, once he’d finished poking at the fireplace. He seemed to hover uncertainly, before finally nodding and settling down on the rugs, a good distance away from her.She couldn’t help but smile. “There’s enough blanket for both of us. If you want.”





	Downpour

The two of them stumbled into the door, positively drenched. Muriel’s dark hair was plastered to his face, rivulets of water rolling over the planes of his almost bare chest. When it had started raining, he’d insisted on giving his coat to her, shrugging it off his broad shoulders and placing it over her wordlessly. The drape was made of a thick, leather-like material, and large enough that she could barely hold all of the heavy fabric up by herself. She must have looked ridiculous, wrapped up in the long, trailing shroud, running as if to outpace the storm. All the trees looked the same in the onslaught of the torrential rain, but Muriel could navigate through almost anything. 

The warmth of the cabin was a relief, even if the fire was just a pile of crackling embers now. Muriel removed the soaked coat from her shoulders, hanging it to dry. The loss of it had her shivering, her own clothing damp and too light to keep in any of the warmth. Muriel frowned. He stripped his bedding of its single, coarse blanket and set it over her, guiding her to sit on the furs beside the fire. 

“Thank you, Muri.” She laughed, snuggling down into the thick blanket. A faint hint of color came over his cheeks, and he looked away. “I’ll get another log for the fire.”

“Will you sit with me?” she asked, once he’d finished poking at the fireplace. He seemed to hover uncertainly, before finally nodding and settling down on the rugs, a good distance away from her.

She couldn’t help but smile. “There’s enough blanket for both of us. If you want.” She tried again, extending an arm. The crease in his brow looked almost pained.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. I…thank you.” He said, after a long moment, shifting over and bowing his head to allow her to drape half of the blanket over his shoulders. The warmth of him was inviting, washing over her even despite the gap between them.

That gap had been infuriating at first. Close, but not quite close enough. Anyone might have mistaken his hesitance for dislike, but she’d learned quickly that this was not the case. When she wasn’t looking, or when Muriel thought she wasn’t, she could see the way his eyes lingered. How he would allow her to brush his arm casually, or even touch his shoulder when she wanted his attention. How he would positively melt when she hugged him, hands balling in the fabric of her coat, nose pressed into her shoulder.

Tentatively, she rested her head against him. He stiffened slightly, but then she felt him shift. There was a heavy sigh, and the tension drained from his body. Quietly, and not quite looking at her, he wrapped an arm over her shoulders. She grinned, nuzzling closer, her cheek against his chest.

“Thank you.” She murmured. 

Muriel seemed to contemplate this a second. “What for?”

“For letting me in. …I know it’s not easy for you. But I like spending time with you. I like to be close to you.” She admitted, glancing up to meet his wide, green eyes. 

A redness colored his face, spreading to the tips of his ears. “Oh.” Was all he said, but his eyebrows furrowed, like there was more he was trying to get out. “I…” he closed his eyes, and then suddenly his hand was on her cheek, his palms calloused, but hovering over her skin in a feather-light touch. She looked up at him, her hand curling over his reassuringly. And then his wet hair was falling into his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her.

The touch was careful, almost chaste, and he seemed to mean to pull away, but she curled an arm around his neck, stilling him. Her hands brushed his hair back from his eyes, smoothing down to rest on either side of his face, and she could feel the rough stubble and raised scar tissue under her palm. She traced the line of a scar down his jaw and he shivered.

She kissed him back more firmly then, clambering into his lap and wondering at the feel of him against her, so close. She wanted to be closer still, but the spikes of his collar were unforgiving, forcing her to work around them to kiss his lips, his jaw, anywhere that she could reach, really. She could feel the rumble of Muriel’s chest as he laughed, and it felt almost like the very earth was shaking beneath her.

“Muri, can we take this off?” she asked, hands trailing over the collar that sat heavily around his throat, the length of chain lolling against his chest, long past its days of serving as a tether. His eyes widened, and he looked away, as if embarrassed. “I’ve never been able to take it off on my own.” He explained, raising a hand to the worn metal. “The locks on the back are…difficult. My hands are too big.” He forced himself to meet her eyes, and she could instantly read the tension in him. “I’ll need your help.”

“Of course.” She answered, and she moved around him, careful fingers parting the hair at the nape of his neck to look at the mechanism of the collar. It was indeed complicated, a series of locks held in place by thick metal, each designed to be a bit more challenging than the last. But it was nothing beyond the scope of her abilities. It took her a matter of minutes to sort them all out, Muriel sitting patiently as she worked away, only shifting slightly when she happened to brush his neck or his shoulder. Each accidental touch earned her a rather lovely flush that crept up over his ears, and she couldn’t help but make that same mistake a few more times, just to watch him. Finally, however, the collar gave a groan and snapped apart. With his help, she removed it from his throat and they let the heavy thing fall to the ground, laying open like the maw of some great predator. Muriel closed his eyes, heaving a sigh of relief.

She’d never seen him without the collar before, and he looked, well. Vulnerable, oddly enough. Like he wasn’t quite sure how to hold himself. And the expanse of new skin that was revealed to her was perfectly smooth, unmarred by his days in the arena. She couldn’t help but lean in to press her lips there, against the thrum of his pulse. As soon as she made contact, it jumped, racing just a bit faster under her smile. Muriel raised a hesitant hand up to her hair, stroking his fingers through it the way someone might pet a small and delicate animal.

“You can touch me, Muri, it’s alright.” She told him, and he drew in a heavy breath, steeling himself. Carefully, Muriel raised a hand to brush her hair back behind her ear. She smiled back encouragingly. His every moment was slow, contemplative, like he couldn’t quite believe it was really happening.

Muriel cupped her face with a large, warm palm, drawing her up to meet his lips again, and she couldn’t help but laugh. He smiled against her lips, and she pressed him back with a hand on his chest, coaxing him to lie back on the plush furs behind him. He went easily, and she followed him down, straddling his hips to hover above him. He was blushing furiously now, and she leaned in to kiss him again. 

She kissed her way down his chest, and a quiet gasp escaped him as her soft lips traced the lines of his collarbones. This only made him blush darker. She moved lower then, following the tracks of firm muscle and thick, white scar. What a sick contradiction, to find such jagged scars on someone so soft. Her sweet Muri, who held her like he was afraid to break her. She knew what those hands could do, if they were forced, and that was perhaps a scar deeper than any surface wound. She would erase them all for him, if she could.

His hands were fisted in the fabric of her shirt, holding on for dear life, and she shifted closer to look at him. “You don’t mind if I take this off, do you? It’s a bit hot, next to the fireplace…” she purred, and Muriel’s lips fell open. He nodded, turning his head, as if to give her privacy.

She smiled, turning his face back towards her with a hand on his chin. He chewed his lip between his teeth, his face burning as he peered up at her, eyes ingenuously wide. She pulled the fabric up and over her head, discarding it beside them. Sensing Muriel’s hesitance, she caught his hands, which had fallen uselessly to his sides, and brought them to rest over her hips.

“Go on. You want to, don’t you?” she murmured, her smile fond. Muriel swallowed, and the way his eyes trailed over her bared skin was telling. “Yes.” He agreed.

A large, warm palm skirted up her side, wondering at the softness of her unscarred skin. She laughed and leaned down to kiss him again. Beside them, the fire crackled, casting stark shadows over their amber-lit skin. The warmth it lent them was welcome, and with Muriel’s arms around her, she barely felt the chill of her damp skin at all.

“Is this alright?” Muriel was asking her, his hand hovering over the bindings on her chest. She nodded, helping him to unwind the wrapping. She shivered when his hand brushed over her bare flesh, and she could not help but draw her lip between her teeth.

She pressed their bodies flush against each other, stretching out over him to kiss down his throat. The soft, rumbling sound he made had her grinning, shifting lower.

She kissed down his chest, over the firm muscle of his stomach, and she had been ready to pause at the waistband of his trousers, to ask permission, but he was already nodding, his face flushed dark, pupils blown wide. His hands fumbled at the tented fabric, and she leaned in to help him.

A breath escaped her, unbidden. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he was big, every other part of him was. But seeing him completely bare: all firm, rippling muscle, his cock thick and straining up against his stomach… she was almost intimidated. Muriel seemed to see the shock on her face, and he shifted up onto an elbow to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“You don’t have to—” he started to say, but she shook her head. “Hush. Just lie back, Muri, it’s alright.” She said, her grin encouraging as she moved towards him. He shuddered when she gripped him, and raised a hand to his mouth to muffle the sound he made as she put her mouth to his cock. She was rolling her hands over him, moving with her palms to cover as much ground as she could. Her technique seemed to land quite well with Muriel, because his head had fallen back, and his adam’s apple bobbed in time with his ragged breaths.

She didn’t have to work long before Muriel was fighting to stay still, his lip chewed painfully tight between his teeth. And oh, the way the muscles of his thighs tensed, the swell of his ribcage making the muscles of his abdomen shift and tighten so perfectly. She couldn’t help but snake a free hand between her own thighs as she worked. Seeing this, Muriel’s eyes darkened. He groaned, pulling her up towards him. She allowed him to drag her close, and he leaned down to kiss her desperately, his hands sliding down her thighs, tugging the fabric of her pants down. She rose up on her knees to help him maneuver her out of them.

“Can I touch you?” he breathed, quiet but with a note of desperation that went directly between her legs. “Yes. Oh, yes. Please.” She replied, perhaps too fast, shifting her stance wider. He pulled her closer onto his lap, and she directed his hand down where she so desperately wanted it.

Her hands slid up his shoulders, pressing against the firm muscle to steady herself. His touch was hesitant at first, and she slid a hand over his, guiding him in the motions that came almost second nature to her. But Muriel was a quick study, and his hands were made for this: with thick, calloused fingers that didn’t have any reason to be as nimble as they were. “Yes, Muri. Oh, Gods, like that.” She was gasping, grinding down hard against his hand.

He was almost supporting her weight, holding her up with a hand under her thigh, and she couldn’t help the sounds that she made, her breath coming fast, hard. “Please, Muri.” She hissed, her hand tightening on his shoulder. “Fuck me. I need you.” 

The sound he made was desperate, low in his throat, but he stilled. “Are you sure?” he asked, a careful hand coming to her cheek. “I don’t want to…to hurt you.” He said, his eyebrows knitting together over soft green eyes. Her chest clenched tight at the sudden sweetness. He was concerned, always so careful with her. Even as badly as he wanted this, if she changed her mind he would back off in a second’s notice, she knew. But oh, she had never been more sure in her life. “I am alright.” She assured him, and she took his hand in her own, squeezing carefully. “I want you.” 

The shift in his expression was immediate. His eyes were wide, his smile tentative, with a fondness he no longer made an effort to hide. Muriel dragged a gentle hand down her face, over her shoulder, and she shifted in over his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. 

He let her lead, his hands on her waist cautious, not applying any pressure. She positioned herself over him, and they both seemed to hold their breath. The pressure alone had her biting her lip, but she sunk down slowly, soothed by the steady weight of his hands on her. The stretch was painful, but not so much as it might have been, thanks to Muriel’s earlier ministrations. She forced herself to breathe, to relax her body enough to take him. 

Muriel groaned, leaning his forehead in to rest on her shoulder. He was still, but the effort of staying that way showed in the strain of his muscles, the tension in his jaw. His hands on her were still careful, but the tension in them was obvious, his tendons pulled taut under beautiful bronzed skin. She soothed a hand down his back, kissing his temple, and continued to lower herself down, gasping as she sank down over the thick midsection of his cock. When she had him fully seated within her, she exhaled sharply. The pressure of him was overwhelming, pushing up against her, stretching her achingly full. Muriel positively growled, his hands tightening instinctively around her. 

She moved more decisively then, rising up only to sink back down again. He went easier the second time, his slick cock easing the descent. There was still an ache, of course, but the sweet friction of moving together was almost enough to ignore it. She rocked up again, taking Muriel’s hands to bring them to her breasts, cupping them. 

Muriel groaned, his large palms thumbing her nipples to hardness, and sliding down over her sides as she moved. Gentle, achingly gentle. When he moved against her, it was only a slow roll of his hips, always careful, always watching her face. 

She reached up to stroke his cheek, pulling him in for a quick, desperate kiss. Each time she sank down, she couldn’t help but gasp into his lips, her fingers tightening on his jaw. The jostling of their movement had them breaking away too soon, bumping into each other messily, desperate to stay near enough to continue the kiss. 

Muriel moved to kiss her throat, his hands on her hips helping to guide her up and down now that her thighs had begun to tremble. Her mouth fell open as the stubble of his jaw brushed over her throat, his lips dragging over the soft skin there. She reached down between her thighs to bring herself that last bit closer. 

Within minutes she was gasping, her muscles pulled tight, burning with the strain, and the pressure in her stomach white-hot. And then she saw the way Muriel was looking at her, his face flushed, eyes half lidded and blown black, and she knew that she was done for. 

Her whole body trembled as she came, pleasure twisting through her stomach and radiating up through her extremities, leaving her boneless, floating. Muriel shifted her off him, lifting her like she weighed nothing. He settled her against his chest, and she leaned into the warmth of him, arching up to kiss his jaw. She ran a hand down between his thighs, stroking languidly, and he shuddered. In a matter of minutes, Muriel followed after her: quiet save for a sharp inhale of breath, his dark brow furrowed. And then they were still, and there was nothing but the two of them pressed close, grinning like idiots and clasping each other’s faces to press their noses together. 

She kissed him, and for a long moment the two of them just laid quietly beside the fire, Muriel’s arms wrapped around her protectively, and her head rested comfortably on his chest. The rise and fall of his breaths shifted her just slightly, lulling her closer to sleep, and she could feel the calm thud of his heartbeat under her cheek. 

Muriel stroked a hand through her hair, marveling at the softness of it as it sifted through his fingers. Once her eyes had slipped shut, he lifted her gently into his arms, his footsteps quiet as he carried her over to his bed. He laid her down, tucking his thick blanket up around her chin, and she blinked open a sleepy eye to watch him. 

Muriel had been about to turn and go when she caught his hand with a tired smile, scooting over to make room for him to join her. Once his heavy weight had settled in beside her, she let her eyes slip shut again. The world faded away to the sound of the fire still crackling beyond them and the comforting smell of myrrh, thick in the air. This, she vowed, she would never forget.


End file.
